


Bruised Fruit

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crying During Sex, Established Relationship, LA Harry, Love Bites, M/M, Rimming, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Louis is obssessed with the way Harry smells in the heat of LA.





	Bruised Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while I should’ve been working but needs must. Hope you enjoy!

“You stink of fags. Fags and weed. And sweat.” Louis breathes into Harry’s hair. He can smell his own breath there too, vaguely minty and warm, captured in Harry’s damp curls. Stray whisps tickle the tacky skin of his neck.

“Look who’s talking,” Louis can hear Harry’s eyes roll as he softens into Louis’ embrace.

“Not had one today.” Louis tucks the duvet around them as tightly as he can, reaching over Harry’s immobile form to push the soft cover underneath his body. The aircon overhead makes the air frigid and dry but inside their cocoon it’s damp and close.

“First time for everything.” Harry’s still in his trousers and vest, his overshirt discarded beside the bed.

“I fucking haven’t,” Louis says, taking a long obvious drag of Harry’s scent.

“Neither have I,” Harry mumbles into Louis chest. He’s further down the bed than he usually would be to cuddle, but he doesn’t want to cuddle really. He wants to be held.

“Who was there, then?” It’s not meant as the jealous demand it sounds like, and Louis strokes the soft fuzz of hair on the shell of Harry’s ear to soften his words.

“You wouldn’t know them,” Harry breathes. He’s kissing his way across Louis’ collarbones without any real intent, his mouth open and dragging from one patch of skin to the next, suckling slightly as he goes.

“Oh, it’s like that?” There’s not really room between them for Louis to stretch into Harry’s touch the way he wants.

“You wouldn’t,” Harry defends.

“Whatever,” Louis takes a handful of Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him up to eye level. He kisses his jaw lightly, the stubble there a welcome change.

“Okay. Jenifer,” Harry offers, straining to offer his neck to Louis’ mouth.

“Yeah,” and Harry’s neck smells like a dream. A mixture of sharp sweat and the musk of his aftershave. Louis’ tastes the skin there. He wants to coat himself in the way Harry smells at this moment, the way he feels against him.

“So you don’t know her,” Harry breathes, vindicated. Not too long ago, the implication that Louis was somehow out of the loop of Harry’s life would’ve sent him spiraling, but he doesn’t try to keep up anymore. It works better like this.

“And? What did they say? Did you get October?” Beneath the duvet Harry’s trousers chafe the skin of Louis’ legs. As Louis speaks, he reaches down between their bodies, leaving the smallest gap he can fit his arms through. He unbuckles Harry’s belt with practiced ease and takes his zipper down.

“They want November,” Harry says. Louis stills.

“Fuck that. No, you want October,” Harry nods against his chest in agreement, awkwardly thrashing out of his trousers before pushing them down the bed with his feet. He takes Louis’ hands in his own and wraps Louis’ arms back around himself.

“I know.”

Louis extricates his arms and grasps Harry’s chin, tilting his face up until they’re eye to eye, his voice steady. “So are you gunna get it?”

“Probably?” Harry drops his chin, taking the end of Louis’ index finger into his mouth and sucking gently. He licks around the end of it before delving his tongue between that and his middle finger. He lets it fall from his mouth absentmindedly. “Yeah. I think Jeff’s gunna push.”

“Of course he is,” Louis grins.

“Don’t, Lou.”

“Didn’t say anything.” Louis wraps his arms back around Harry, tangling their legs together beneath the sheets.

“You don’t need to say it, I know what you’re thinking,” Harry says. He slides one thigh either side of Louis’. Louis can feel the slick sweat accumulated between the softness of Harry’s legs, the skin there slightly sticky with it.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Louis holds him tightly. Neither of them can really breathe.

“Don’t be,” and Harry’s kissing his neck. Alternating between soft dry pecks and long drags of his tongue.

“Tired?” Louis is exhausted but he’ll suffer for Harry.

“Fucked,” Harry burrows back into his chest, nuzzling the patchy hair between his pecs.

“Wanna go to bed?” Louis offers.

“We’re in bed,” Harry wiggles animatedly to prove his point.

“To sleep then.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. He brings his hands up to rest on Louis shoulders, gently stroking the skin there.

“No, neither do I.” Louis can’t help but pitch forward. Harry’s hands grasp his skin and he shivers despite the heat surrounding them.

“What’s that?” Harry arches, fitting his hips against Louis’ crotch.

“My dick.”

“I know that,” Harry pulls away from Louis’ chest, his face visibly sweaty.

“You wanna?” Louis kisses him lightly, his tongue brushing softly against Harry’s as they breathe each other in.

Harry groans into Louis’ mouth, his breath is hot and wet. “Not everything.”

“What’s that entail, then? What’s it leave me?”

“What do you want?” Harry’s fighting to keep still but the delicious weight in his dick as he ruts against Louis’ boxers is too tempting.

Louis laughs. “You.”

“Cheesy.”

“True.”

-

Harry’s naked, face down, his head in the fold of his arms with a pillow beneath his hips that’s there under the guise of propping him up, but is really just for him to grind into.

There’s a small fleck of white lint at the very top of Harry’s arse and Louis ducks down to blow it away.

Louis rests his cheek against the swell of his arse. “You smell good.”

Harry ruts down, almost dislodging Louis from above him. “I’m boiling,” he moans into his arms.

“I know.” Louis parts Harry’s cheeks and inhales.

Deep in the hottest part of him, Harry smells like musk and heat and the citrus tang of his shower gel all covered by the unmistakable and inescapable punch of man and Louis’ so turned on he’s almost vibrating. His dick feels inflamed. He’s lightheaded and almost shaking, his hands sweating where he fights to hold Harry open.

Louis runs his tongue across his lips, wetting them where they’ve begun to chap in the wake of his heavy breaths.

He can’t help himself, he lowers his face, closer and then closer still to where Harry’s split open for him.

He takes a mouthful of the clammy flesh just to the side of Harry’s hole and Harry screams, trying to clench his cheeks together as Louis holds him.

“Fuck.”

Louis sucks on the skin between his lips, wetting it sloppily with his tongue and humming slightly as he tastes the salty sweat.

When he pauses for breath, he asks “does it hurt?”

Harry’s rhythmically humping the bed, shameless in his arousal. “Mmm.”

“Nicely?” Louis asks, spreading him open further.

“Always.”

There’s a deep purple bruise flowering where Louis’ mouth has just been. He kisses it tenderly before returning to the heady space between Harry’s cheeks.

Louis doesn’t realise Harry’s sobbing until the mattress beneath him jumps as Harry slams his fist into it.

Louis pulls back, sharp bolts of tension streaking through his shoulders and neck. He’s no way of knowing how long he’s been down there, but his stiffness tips him off. Harry’s arse is ruddy and chapped between his cheeks. Louis draws his finger through a remaining trail of his own spit that lingers there. The imperfect ring of purple bruises surrounding the tight kiss of Harry’s hole reminds Louis of the center of a halved plum.

He licks from the bottom of Harry’s taint up to the crest of his arse.

“You don’t taste like fruit.”

“What?” Harry doesn’t turn to look at Louis, just grinds his arse back further towards him.

“You look as good as a piece of fruit, but you don’t taste like it.”

“You don’t like fruit.”

“No. I don’t. I fucking love this, though.”


End file.
